The Other One
by KayWeathersRileyNYC
Summary: /Sherrinford Holmes, they always say that this person is a he. What if Sherrinford is not who we expected?/What happened after Sherlock fake his death and before his exile/Secrets and sentiments are spilled out shamelessly/
1. The Other One

A/N: This was made at 2 a.m and I apologize if there are some mistakes in the grammar, etc. English is not my native language.

"What kind of parents names their daughter Carlisle Sherrinford Holmes? People called me Sherrinford and thought I was a boy," she grumbled at her eldest brother. Mycroft only sighed and continued to read the newspaper. "Is it because he and I are twins?" she added while staring at her grime boots. "Mummy said he was born 7 minutes before me, is it true?" Carlisle, or known better as Sherrinford, asked with a smirk. A habit that she could never let go was annoying her brothers with ridiculous questions, whether to the eldest or the youngest.

Mycroft took a deep silent breath; he will not back down, not anymore. "You've been gone to long," he said in his usual bored tone but Carlisle knew well the hidden meaning behind that. "Yes, 10 years, wasn't it?" she asked solemnly, leaning back to the cold wall. "Mahogany," she mumbled as she stared around the room. Carlisle always noticed what her brothers are addicted to, Mycroft to mahogany and Sherlock, well, he used to be addicted to drugs, she has no idea if he has rehabilitate or not.

There was an odd silent in the room. Not a rare one when Carlisle was around. "Indonesia was nice," she finally said. "You should go there sometimes." She knew that he couldn't, always busy working. Her turquoise eyes bore into the newspaper. It reminded her of those days, when she was 17 and he was 24. Occasionally, when she comes home from school, he was always hidden behind those boring newspaper. No conversation would be started for they were actually thinking the same thing, the sibling who was rarely home.

"I couldn't stop worrying, Micro," she said, his nickname that she gave long ago sounded so...unfamiliar in her mouth. "How is he?" finally, Mycroft put down the newspaper, folding it neatly before putting his steeple hands under his chin. "The usual," he answered vaguely and she noticed the slight grimace he made when he glanced at her boots, pants and shirt. "Thank you for being very informative," she said sarcastically.

"Molly is under threat." Carlisle stiffened quickly. "Hooper?" Mycroft nodded slightly. "How could she be?" she asked as she fisted her hands. Their eyes bore to one another, a silent conversation between them and she slowly relaxed. "Of course," she whispered. "He would pick her to be someone he can trust. Someone he knew since before his teenage years," she said, mostly to herself.

9 years old Molly Hooper invaded their lives since Carlisle and he were 10 years old. A friend wasn't something that William (back then, Sherlock called her Carlisle while she called him William) would like to have. But a colleague, that, he was fond of. Molly had shown interest in human anatomy, that biology stuff and when she and her parents move next to their house, Sherlock and Molly would do experiments while Carlisle would usually learn how to bake from Molly.

By the time Sherlock turned 16, things sort of changed. He (and Carlisle) noticed how Molly would sometimes stare to long at him or she would suddenly blush when her hand touched his. The truth came out when Carlisle still couldn't bake chocolate chips cookies for Mycroft (she accidentally burned one of his suit when she was ironing it). In the middle of Carlisle swearing due to the fact she couldn't stir it well, Molly suddenly told her that she thinks she's in love with Sherlock. That made Carlisle's stomach churn and in the end, Molly was the one who made the cookies because Carlisle went into daze for almost an hour.

Then a year after that, he went into drugs, Mycroft had to deal with him, Carlisle had to deal with her final exams in Senior High School (Sherlock skipped two grades, much to her distaste). While young Molly, she had to deal with her father's death. Carlisle and Molly's friendship was strained, and the fact that their houses were close only made it worse. Carlisle wanted to tell Molly that she should not pick her brother, he'll only hurt her but she didn't dare to say that. A coward, that's what Carlisle was. By the time she got enough courage...that was also the time Molly moved away with her mother without telling her or her parents.

Then suddenly, in 2005, in the crowded London, they bumped into each other. It was just a short meeting. Molly grown more beautiful in Carlisle's opinion and Carlisle barely changed according to Molly. True though, Carlisle never really had a body of neither a woman nor a man but she considered herself as a woman due to her child-like face and long hair.

Then suddenly Molly told her that she misses Sherlock. Again Carlisle went into a daze but just for 5 minutes. That's when she remembered, Sherlock is in London too, that was the reason she came here, to say goodbye. Carlisle quickly asked what was Molly doing here and admitted that she was studying at Bartholomew to be a pathologist. That means the possibility is small for them meet. Carlisle knew, she knew really well what her brother feels, ever since they were just two small children.

He loves Molly just as Molly loves him.

"Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side," Carlisle said as she finished her reverie. Mycroft sighed, he really shouldn't have made them think that love is barely an important thing and dangerous. "Those are his words, aren't they?" she asked. She was sure that her mind is actually linked to his. She still remembered feeling something odd in her chest before she found out that Sherlock took drugs and the uncomfortable feeling on her spine when Sherlock fell off from the tree because he wanted to act as a pirate.

He only grunted in response. "Do you think Sherlock will give in?" Carlisle asked as she walked to the front of his desk. For a while, he didn't response. Then suddenly he pulled out a photo from his pocket that quickly took her breath away.

There, probably a two years old boy with curly black hair and brown eyes with pale skin was smiling, showing his teeth that weren't really complete yet. Those eyes reminded her very much of Hooper and the hair was precisely like Sherlock.

"He already did."


	2. Things Don't Always Work The Way We Want

A/N: Maybe you've read this in Ao3 but I can explain. The real writer is my sister and I sort of insisted that she should post it here. At first she said no but thankfully she relented and here it is using my account. This is a prequel for the 1st chapter.

Summary:

What happened on the night before Sherlock leaves London until the day before his four minutes exile.

And so, the news was all over the media. Sherlock Holmes, a fraud and dead. Mycroft let out a heavy sigh; it went just as it was supposed to. What actually worried him was his dear clueless sister who hid herself and rarely talked with her family. Mummy and Papa would worry but Mycroft always assured them that Sherrinford is safe out there.

She is safe, he was sure of that. The only problem was, ever since he sent her for one simple mission, after she finished, she disappeared. Sherlock insisted that he would stay at Molly's flat before he has to take care of Moriarty's network. Mycroft knew what Sherlock wanted to do; the only thing that made Mycroft vexed up was the aftermath.

Molly frowned as she kept changing the channel. All of it discussed the same thing, the consulting detective who was in her bedroom right now, probably in his mind palace. She turned off the telly and looked at her bedroom door. He was her childhood friend; time certainly did and didn't change things. She hated the fact that he only became more handsome over the years, not to mention his perfect mind. Molly wondered where his twin was, it's been ages since she met Carlisle.

Carlisle would know that he's not dead yet, Sherlock knew that. They share a bond; somehow they would know what the other is feeling. Deep in his mind palace, a small room, not bigger than a janitor room you find in hallways at high school, there were files about Carlisle. He still remembered her goodbye.

"I won't be back until 10 years from now, I guess. If...one of us died, I believe that the other can feel it. I'm sure of it, William," she said and added a small chuckle. "I'm glad you're doing something you like and it's good for you, though I never thought that you would actually use my suggestion. Consulting detective," she laughed a little and gave a small pat at his shoulder. "I just hope that, you can find someone that understands you, someone not me or Mycroft or Mummy. Papa could barely understand you and Mycroft." That did make him smirk. "I hope Molly Hooper can help you again." He knew that it actually slipped out from her.

"Molly," he whispered as he lay on her bed with his eyes closed. He heard a gasp, a familiar one. His eyes quickly opened. "Sorry, I thought, well," Molly stammered. She cleared her throat and asked, "When are you leaving?" his blue-green eyes stared deeply into her brown eyes. "Tomorrow," he answered. It was odd for Molly to see him wearing a shirt and sweatpants, and it was very weird to see him in her bedroom.

"She was right," Sherlock said as he stood up. Carlisle was the only Holmes sibling who was full of mischief, interested in domestic life like cooking and cleaning, always saying that dancing was dull in front of Sherlock for she knew well that Sherlock loves dancing, skilled in typing (she remembered every position of every key), a physics maniac, and most of the time, she was right about things.

Molly gulped when Sherlock walked to her and their pupils were dilated. "Who was right?" she asked in a whisper. "Sherrinford," he answered as he took her hands in his. "You're always there, Molly. Helping me, have conversations about things with me that would bore Carlisle to death, giving me suggestions in my experiments since we were just children." He could feel her pulse beating rapidly and he was sure that his was just the same.

"You remembered," Molly said in surprise. She always thought that Sherlock forgot about her. "Of course I do, Molly. I kept everything about you in my mind palace," he told her. That's when she noticed that he was making letters in the back of her hand.

I.L.O.V.E.Y.O.U

She gasped. He smirked. His hand stroked her cheek and slowly his lips met hers. "I never forget you, Molly," he whispered against her lips. "No matter what happens, you shall always be in my mind palace." And the next thing she remembered was him laying her down on her bed and ravished her.

* * *

Somewhere, Carlisle Sherrinford Holmes was sleeping peacefully when her pillow vibrated. Groggily, she took her phone from underneath her pillow and sat up. Blinking her eyes a few times, her eyes went wide when she saw her friend sent a very odd message.

CARLISLE, YOUR BROTHER'S DEAD!

"Sherlock's dead?" she mumbled as she typed and sent it to her friend. Clearly, if Mycroft was the one who died, this won't be such a big deal for her friend. The answer was fast and just one word; yup. "Odd," she said to herself. Suddenly she heard a soft meow. She stared at her black and white tabby, "Do you think my twin is dead, Matori?" she asked her cat while brushing her fur with her hand. Her tabby only purred in response. "Yeah, I think he faked it," she said as if she understood what the purr meant.

She searched her contacts and stopped at the M. She was confused whether she should text Mycroft or not. She's not sure if Molly would answer. Staring at the contact with the name Micro made her giggle.

That day at her bedroom, after studying physics, the word Micro kept getting in her mind and she wondered why. Then suddenly Mycroft came into Carlisle's mind and she burst into laughter in her room. At dinner, she saw her eldest brother and smiled. Mycroft stared her down, knowing well that she was about to make him irritated.

"From now on, I'm going to call you Micro," she told him. He flinched; it was bad enough that Mummy was calling him Myke and now little Sherrinford though that Micro was better? "How childish," he spat. "It's just a nickname, Micro. Not like it'll change your life," she said with that mischievous smile. Carlisle scarred Mycroft's life since she called him with that nickname in the public and added, "I should probably get someone to say 'wave' after I call your nickname." (Papa was very fond of calling her his little Loki).

Being the coward she was, she put her phone back in the same place and Matori snuggled close to her. But then Carlisle remembered something. Not wanting to wake her cat up, she took her phone again stealthily and opened up Twitter. She quickly found out that he was in trending topic. "I hope you're safe out there, William."

Molly woke up and found out that she was alone. He already left without another word. She still remembered his warm hands, his lips, and his eyes that showed vulnerability. "I wish you'll come back here safely, Sherlock."

* * *

It's been two months since Sherlock 'died'. Molly couldn't stand dealing with John, she felt guilty, very guilty. She knew why Sherlock chose her; she was very good at keeping secrets and not one to tell. So she was very glad when she met Mary Morstan. They became friends very fast and somehow Molly has a feeling that Mary and John would be perfect for each other. That's why Molly hooked them up.

But one thing that made Molly worried was that, she's been vomiting and not feeling well lately. And she just realized she hasn't been getting her period. Now she was waiting for the pregnancy test. "Please," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly as she waited impatiently. When the timer was up, with shaky hands she took it in her hand and her lungs tighten.

Positive.

Her feelings were mixed up. She was happy, scared, confused, elated, and angry. They should've been careful that time. Molly felt tears threatening to fall, she took a deep breath and let go. Then there was a soft knock was heard from the front door.

She threw the test into the bin and tried to relax herself. She can do this. Mary, maybe Mary can help! She has friends that will help her. Walking to front door and peeping from the hole, she was surprised with the visitor. Confused as to why he was here, she feared the worst as she opened the door just slight.

"Doctor Hooper," Mycroft said in his posh accent. "May I?" Molly opened the door wider and he walked in. Without any chit-chats, he quickly asked, "I suppose you've found out that you're carrying my nephew or niece?" Molly gawked at him. "Don't worry, Doctor Hooper. I shall help you in every way possible," he continued as he sat down on the couch graciously.

"How did you know?" she asked. "The same way like him," he answered simply. Maybe this was a chance to ask. "What happened to Carlisle?" she noticed how Mycroft stiffened, his grip on his umbrella tightened. "She's fine. Somewhere out there," he told her. "I hope you're not thinking of abortion?" Molly's eyes widened.

"No! Of course I'm not!" she said, her arms circled around her still flat stomach protectively. Mycroft nodded curtly. "I insist that by the time you're four months pregnant, you should move to my parents' house. We shall inform Doctor Stamford that you've some things to deal with out of town," he explained. They both knew that if the child were to grow up here in London, there are the possibilities that people will find out that the child is related to the great Sherlock Holmes. "Alright," she said, "for the sake of Sherlock's child," she told him.

* * *

Months went by so quickly for Molly. Just like they promised, Molly went to live with Sherlock's parents. It was awkward for her at first, because it has been a long time since she met them yet they greet her with open arms and warm smiles. They asked about her mother and she told them that her mother was fine, though she didn't told them that she remarried to a man that Molly doesn't like.

After a couple of months living with them, she finally had the courage to ask them about Carlisle or the exact words were, "What did actually happen to Sherrinford?" Molly felt guilty when the usually happy pair went a bit gloomy at the mention of their daughter. They told her that they had no idea where she actually was and Violet Holmes didn't talk to Molly for a few days. Siger Holmes assured Molly that his wife was just worrying about their daughter but he was sure that Sherrinford was safe out there, saying that she was the wildest Holmes in the family.

Three months later, Molly went into labour. It was long, exhausting but worthwhile. Mycroft made sure that she delivered the baby in privacy (the luck of being the British Government). He was glad to know that Molly Hooper only delivered one, imagine if it was twins! Mycroft looked at his sleeping 5 hours old nephew. It was a perfect combination of Sherlock and Molly according to him. After letting Molly take some rest, Mycroft wondered what name this boy will carry. He hoped that it's not some mundane name.

* * *

Sherlock let out a groan as he kept pressure to his wound. It was raining here, god knows where, he lost track of time and places. Good thing that he still reacted fast enough to save himself. He must finish dismantling Moriarty's network as fast as he could, for John's sake...and Molly too. Sometimes he wondered if John is still mourning, he thought if John still were, than he must be wasting too much time. He knew that Molly worries, but he also know that they're still under the same sky, waiting for each other.

* * *

"Carlisle William Hooper-Holmes," Molly told him. Mycroft nodded briskly, it was a good name, not really horrible. "Then I suppose he shall be called Carlisle Holmes the Fourth by Mummy and Papa," Mycroft said. The first Carlisle was his great grandfather, the second was his uncle, and the third, of course, was his sister. "Doctor Hooper," he started but then Molly scoffed. "It's Molly, Mycroft. I told you, we're practically related now," Molly said. "Well, Molly," it sounded so odd to hear Mycroft said her given name, "I insist that my nephew should live with his grandparents by the time he reached a year old," he told her.

He explained that she can visit anytime she wants; he reminded her that it will raise suspicions if the boy were to grow up in London. Anyone could probably tell that the boy was related to the great Sherlock Holmes. Mycroft was sure that his nephew would be just as smart as or even smarter than Sherlock. Reluctantly, Molly agreed to it.

But then Violet and Siger admitted that they can't take care of their grandchild. Mycroft frowned, his parents liked to go out to much for his liking. "How about asking your uncle? He rarely goes out and I suppose he would love some company, he's very well at taking care of children," his father said. Mycroft contemplated it for a while and eventually agreed and so did Molly.

Uncle Carlisle Crane Holmes was a warm person, he was friendly and wise. Apparently according to Mycroft, he had a testicular cancer, making him unable to reproduce. So it was quite a good turn of events for him when he has to take care of the youngest Carlisle Holmes later. He was quickly fond of Molly, saying that she was already like a daughter to him after chatting with him for a few hours.

Molly went back to live in her old flat and at first, Molly wanted her son to live with her mother if they were to be separated but Mycroft stared at her, knowing full well that, that was out of the option. They both know that Molly's mother was a very religious woman and chances are she would be ashamed to know that her only daughter had a baby out of wedlock. "I assure you, Molly, that my brother will be back," he told her. But then as he was about to leave her flat, he stopped when she asked, "Will your sister come back too?" he closed his eyes, let out a sigh and left without another word for he finally knew where his sister was but it would be impossible to drag her back home. Indonesia was Carlisle's dream since she was young.

* * *

Two years later, he came back. Unfortunately, Molly waited for Sherlock too long until she gave up. She knew that people knew she was in love with Sherlock Holmes. The longer she waited, the more people would pity her and so she tried to move on.

She met a nice man, his name was Tom Riley. They met because one of her co-workers, Meena, insisted that she must meet this man. Molly quickly knew why Meena set her up with him. Tom was practically a carbon copy of Sherlock. The only difference was their personality. Tom was a very open man and eventually Molly told him that she has a son. At first he was surprised to hear that but then he told her that he would like to meet her son. Then a few months after that, he popped the question, saying that he'll take care of her and her son.

As much as Molly wanted to tell Sherlock about their son, Mycroft had made her promise not to tell him, saying that it's not the time. So Molly had to hold herself back, every time she and Sherlock met, she wanted to say the truth. She doesn't love Tom, she only said yes out of pity. Ironic, for it seemed Tom asked her out of pity.

Her life started to turn upside down again as Sherlock came back. John almost died, John got married, Sherlock's fake engagement with Janine, Molly broke her engagement, Sherlock started to take drugs again and his almost exile. All those time, she spent mostly with her wonderfully intelligent son, her little Carl. But she knew that every time she came back to her flat, Sherlock was there. There was his scent on her bed and there was that one time when she just got to her flat, he was just about to leave. Awkwardly, Molly told him that she knew he came over and he told her that he knew that she knew and those stories about him and Janine were all make-believe before leaving her flat.

Carl was the only one who can comfort her and sometimes Uncle Carlisle, or as he preferred to be called Crane, told her stories about the twins when they were still young children, some amused her and some made her a big pile of mush, like when he told her that Sherlock once fell from the tree and Sherrinford was quick to find him, insisting that Uncle Carlisle should follow her and found Sherlock holding back from crying, on his back then Sherrinford kept telling him that it's going to be fine. They were still seven years old.

Carl's first word was, "Cat." Due to the fact that half of the time, Molly would tell him stories that features the cat she once had, also known as Toby. Uncle Crane was also fond of cats, considering most of the furniture in his house involved cats.

When Molly was trying her best not to cry because she had to find out that Sherlock was about to leave England again from Mycroft without saying goodbye, a text surprised her while she was watching her son running around in the garden, sometimes crouching to search for something. It was just six words but it's life altering.

Why did you not tell me?

-SH

And another text followed quickly.

I have told him.

Mycroft Holmes

That was the day before his four-minutes exile.

A/N: The sequel will probably be out next week. Or month. Or year, for all I know. My sister tends to do that and so do I, I mean, I lied to my readers! I'm out of ideas, when one get a writer's block, so does the other. Just hope for the sequel and hopefully the end of the story get finished faster. Later, mate.


	3. It Ends Like It Should Be

A/N: Thanks for SammyKatz that told me about the scrambled problem. I'm very sorry that happened, hopefully it won't happen again to anyone. My sister finished the sequel after school and so here it is.

2005

"You're drunk, Hooper," Carlisle said as she practically dragged a deadweight Molly Hooper out of the bar. Molly snorted, "I'm soo fine! You're exgrating!" Carlisle flinched at that misspelled word. "I think you meant exaggerating." Molly nodded, her body leaning to Carlisle's tall frame. Looking around Carlisle hoped that a cab will notice them because she was trying really hard to stop a cab while making sure Molly wouldn't slip away. "I luv your brother...I wanna have kids with him," she slurred. Carlisle flinched again.

"I know," she mumbled and gladly opened the door to the cab that stopped for them. "He has an enia that I fell for." Carlisle frowned, what the heck is an enia? "You mean euonia?" Molly nodded, "That's what I said, Carlisle!" How could Molly Hooper be such a lightweight and deadweight at the same time? Carlisle wondered with an amused smile. "I'll take you home," Carlisle said, pushing Molly gently inside the cab. "Your brother is a good man!" Molly exclaimed as she sat down while Carlisle sat and closed the door.

"Despite all," she yawned, "the drug stuff, he's just, flowing..." she started mumbling after that and Carlisle could barely understand. "I know, Hooper. He's a good kid; problem is, the way he deals with life."

* * *

Present Day

"My life isn't a game, Sherlock! And neither is yours! You can't just restart it all over again and..." Molly trailed off; her brown eyes were holding back the tears. Sherlock stared at her awkwardly, confused of what to do. Yes, he's hurt but so is she. "I..." he started but he was confused of what to say. Suddenly they heard clapping from the door.

Sherlock wasn't exactly surprised while Molly was gawking. "You kept your promise," he said rather calmly. Carlisle, still wearing that horrible attire, smirked at them. "Talking about my nephew, I presume?" she asked. Now that surprised Sherlock but just a bit. "Mycroft told you," he deduced. "That's irrelevant, William. Tell me, what did you say that made Molly wanted to cry? Not to mention that she said something about 'restart it all over again'," Carlisle said, walking to them.

"Horrible place for such words to say, don't you think?" Carlisle asked with a chuckle. "The irony is rather transparent," Sherlock mumbled. "Talking about restarting life in the morgue," Carlisle said and clucked her tongue. "I thought you were dead," Molly finally said. "Again, another irony," Carlisle exclaimed.

"It's another irrelevant thing, Molly Hooper," she said as she toyed with a scalpel on the table near them. "My nephew is what I—we—want to know," she added, glancing at Sherlock as she said that. Molly sighed; dealing with Sherlock Holmes was exhausting and with his twin would be more exhausting. "I named him Carlisle William Holmes. I thought you were dead because Mycroft never really told me where you were, that's why I decided to name him after you. The middle name was because I missed the boy I used to spend times with when I was young but I saw him, 9 months before my child was born."

"How mushy," Carlisle commented. She flinched when Sherlock glared at her. "Anyway," Molly said hurriedly, despite that she's a bit hurt because of Carlisle's comment. "He's 2 now. A wonderful boy, he already remember many long words, I was quite amazed." Molly looked down at her shoes. "And Sherlock must've said something that sounds like, 'I wish we were more careful that night' or 'I wish I didn't let my vulnerability away'," Carlisle deduced.

"Both, actually," Molly spat. Without another thought, Carlisle hit his head. "And I cannot believe I'm your twin! Mummy taught us well about not hurting the people we love and care!" she grumbled at him. Molly stood there awkwardly. "She didn't tell me about my child! I'm sure you understand how hurt I am!" he retorted.

Carlisle gaped. "You didn't tell him? When he came back from the dead?" Molly shook her head. "Oh, that's bad. That's really bad, Molly. Having a kid with you was practically on his number one list," Carlisle blurted out. Sherlock clenched his fists as his face turned red, whether out of anger or embarrassment he didn't exactly know but he guessed it was the latter. Molly was looking away from them, her cheeks turning crimson.

"That should've been a secret," Carlisle mumbled. "But, now it's out, I guess, you should meet us with him," Carlisle said. Her turquoise eyes stared deeply to Molly's brown eyes, a silent beg. "On the way here," Carlisle started, "I suddenly remembered the night before I left England. You said that you want to have kids with my brother in the middle of your drunken ramble and honestly, I'm glad you had one. I just hope that, you can have kids with him before your uterus went dry," she finished. Maybe the last few words should've been kept inside; Carlisle thought when she noticed the scowl on Sherlock's face.

Molly, her cheeks still crimson, nodded. "I'll take you both to him. I wish, he could grow up like how the two of you did," she admitted. "Of course he will, Molly," Sherlock said, "he will have my deep curiosity about life and your kindness," he told her. Carlisle coughed, trying to hide her smile. Frankly, Carlisle agreed with her brother.

"He's with your uncle," Molly said. "He's with our cross-dresser uncle?!" Carlisle exclaimed while Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. Carlisle could be a goldfish sometimes. "Of course not, Sherrinford," he said, making Carlisle clenched her teeth; nobody is allowed to call her that unless it's Mummy and Papa. "Carlisle Holmes the second would be delighted to take care of Carlisle Holmes the third, I doubt he would mind to take care the fourth," Sherlock said and honestly, Carlisle just cannot hold her laugh.

That made Molly smiled a bit (and Sherlock, thought he was much better at hiding it), after all it has been a long time since she met Carlisle whose laughter are always so free and show genuine happiness. "Dear God, William! How amusing you could be sometimes!" she said after finally catching her breath back. She smiled fondly at the two of them. "Oh I wish you'll marry her, Will. Molly—I meant, Hooper—is a wonderful woman." Sherlock looked away from Molly and vice versa. Carlisle shook her head at them, why wouldn't Sherlock just admit it? After all, the whole Moriarty thing is finished, not to mention that Carlisle had to lay low somewhere so she won't fully distract her twin.

Apparently, Mycroft made sure that Molly did take his siblings to meet his nephew by getting a car ready in front of St. Bartholomew as the three of them walked out. "Must've been the security camera," Carlisle said. "Do you think a chocolate cake can make him stop making sure I'm safe?" Molly asked to the twins who looked a bit confused. "I mean, I'm a woman, not a child. I don't need a protection all of the time," she explained as they get in the car. "Well, I think, this person," Carlisle said, pointing to Sherlock, "Is the one who you should be angry to."

Now that makes a little sense, Molly thought. "Alright, I'll tell him to stop." Carlisle smirked in amusement, now Sherlock definitely reminded her to how Papa would act back when they were kids. The ride to Uncle Crane, as Sherlock and Carlisle call him, was filled with silence.

Molly was clearly thinking about how Sherlock would react, Sherlock was thinking if Molly would allow him to help her in taking care of their son, while Carlisle, well, she was thinking if Uncle Crane still have those candies that she like so much.

"Well," Molly sighed as the car stopped, "We're here." Carlisle nodded; nothing changed except the garden seemed to be more wonderful. "Ah, you added some flowers," Carlisle said and Molly smiled. Anyone who knows Molly well would know that it was Molly who took care of the garden because of her touch.

Yellow.

"You do know that yellow roses have quite a lot of sad meanings, in my opinion," Carlisle blurted out when they passed the roses. "You like white roses a lot better," Sherlock retorted. "Yup, that's why I named my cat Matori Hidensnow. Hide-n-snow, that's how you say it," she said after toying with one of the roses. Molly was rather quite as they walked to front door. She knocked the door and sort of hoping that Sherlock's uncle was out with her son.

"Molly, what a surpri..." Uncle Crane trailed off when he realized that Molly was with his wonderful niece and nephew. "Carlisle!" she gave him a crooked smile. "Mummy and Papa already know I'm back but I was sort of afraid to meet you again. And not to mention I could've met my nephew!" Uncle Crane chuckled at her.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise, especially him," he said, pointing to Sherlock. For once, Carlisle felt that horrible gut punch because ever since they were kids, Uncle Crane always favoured her and rarely notice Sherlock. "I suppose he's finally ready?" Sherlock nodded briskly, his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

As they walked inside, Molly said, "I'll make some tea," without waiting for an answer from Uncle Crane. "I suppose she's jittery," he told them before gesturing for them to follow him. "How was Indonesia, Carlisle?" Carlisle raised her eyebrows, "How did you know, uncle? Did Micro tell you?" her uncle nodded. "Well, Indonesia was nice. In fact, I was thinking of living in the suburbs," she answered, all the while not noticing how Sherlock looked surprised at that.

"In America, I assume?" Carlisle laughed slightly. "I just might," she mumbled. Glancing at Sherlock, she grimaced when he seemed a bit...sad. "You're ready?" Uncle Crane said to make sure as they stopped in front of a door. Sherlock opened the door and he thought that his lungs had stopped working.

"He's beautiful," he mumbled as he saw the sleeping form of his son on a rather big bed. The room was filled with books, mostly science books. "I bet he loves biology like you do," Carlisle said. "I love chemistry more, Carlisle," Sherlock said as he knelt down to put the scattered books in the bookshelves. "Yeah, whatever," she said under her breath and smiled at her uncle. "I thought that the bigger the bed is, he'll be more comfortable," Uncle Crane explained.

After putting back the books, Sherlock sat down on the bed and stroke the boy's curly hair. "Mummy," he mumbled. Despite that he's a 2 years old boy; he has a mind of 4 years old. "You let him read this?" Carlisle suddenly said, rather loudly, as she took a book with the title, 'The Cat who walks by Himself'.

The boy opened his eyes slowly and yawned. "Oh sorry," Carlisle whispered. The boy has beautiful brown eyes with a tint of blue, if you look deeply. "Granpa C, who are they?" he asked, a little scared. "Well, my dear boy," Uncle Crane started, "This man," he pat Sherlock's shoulder, "is your father and that girl," he pointed Carlisle, "is your aunt." The boy gaped at him and then smiled. He suddenly hugged Sherlock and it was rather tightly.

"Ho! You have a son, William!" Carlisle exclaimed. Hard to believe it but Sherlock smiled and his eyes were teary. Hearing a soft gasp from the doorway, they all looked there and found Molly with her hand closing her mouth and tears were running down. "Mummy, what's wrong?" the boy said, pulling away and then walked to her with a worried look. Molly shook her head, "I'm happy, Carl," she whispered after she knelt down and hugged him.

"I can't stand all the sentiment," Carlisle whispered to her uncle. "The window is not far from the ground, you can get your favourite candies in the kitchen," he whispered back, pointing to the window between the bed and the bookshelf. She walked there and opened it while Sherlock rolled his eyes at his sister's antics. "Nice meeting you, Carl!" she said with a grin before jumping out the window. Sherlock looked at Molly and his son. She smiled at him and he smiled back as he knelt down and hug both of them. For once after years, he felt...bottomless happiness.

A/N: Can't believe I'm saying this but my sister thought making a Sherlock crossover with FRIENDS would be cool but I agree with her 200% and she wants to publish it here. Again, thanks for SammyKatz.


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